


Folding Paper Moons Under a Cardboard Sky

by james



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Crime Plot, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny knows what Steve wants, but what Danny wants right now is to be rescued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Folding Paper Moons Under a Cardboard Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [giandujakiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giandujakiss/gifts).



> Written for Giandujakiss for help_japan. Many thanks to perspi for the awesome beta!

Danny's wrists are cuffed behind his back, his legs bound together and tied to something, he can't tell what. All he can tell is that he can barely shift his legs, barely move his arms, though he honestly isn't certain if it's because they're tied down as well, or if he can barely move because the trunk is so small. He's pretty sure he's scraped the skin completely off his wrists trying to work them free; there's a feeling of slickness on his fingers and he's tried to use it, spread that slickness onto his wrists in hope the lubrication would help.

It hasn't, and his wrists are still behind his back and he's still locked inside the trunk of the car. All he can smell is dirty engine oil and the smog of Honolulu traffic; they're still in the city, he knows, from the smoothness of the pavement and the stop-and-go of the driving. It doesn't tell him anything useful -- what he wouldn't give for his own personal trained SEAL who could, no doubt, determine their position on the globe based on the infinitesimal clues of how long they're stopped at intersections and how thick the air smells with exhaust.

Danny does the best he can, trying to free himself or learn whatever he can to help with his rescue, should the chance arise. But there isn't much. The complete blackness of the trunk's interior hasn't been interrupted by even the thinnest crack of light. He doesn't know if it's still night or if whoever has grabbed him just has an impressively airtight trunk.

His stomach clenches at the thought -- _airtight_ \-- and he tries to focus on something else and not the easily accessible ocean all around. Not that they couldn't shoot him as soon as they opened the trunk, just as easily. Shoot him _through_ the trunk without even opening it, without any warning at all.

Getting free hasn't been working and there is little enough room to move around in here. All Danny can do is wait for his chance and hope.

~~~~

Monday started with an argument, because that was how Mondays tended to be since he joined 5-0: wild, unpredictable, and with Steve McGarrett protesting the whole way that it wasn't his fault. Steve had tried to retaliate while driving; when he'd spent too much time trying to focus on Danny's ear and not enough on the _traffic,_ God help him, Danny had smacked Steve's hand away and given him a second ear-flick.

The first one was completely Steve's fault, because certain things deserved an ear-flick and no amount of confused protest and wounded expressions could ever change that. Steve should have been expecting it, really; he'd grown up with a sister, there should have been ear-flicks galore. Danny was a past master at the ear-flick, as well a master at being halfway across the house by the time a younger sister could even start wailing for Ma. A lot of ear-flicks had gotten blamed on Matty, a fact of which Danny was completely unashamed.

With Steve's ear turning a little pink from the force of what was now three ear-flicks, Danny leaned back in his seat and watched as Steve tried to work out the course of his revenge. He glared over at Danny, quick and sharp before turning back to the traffic around them -- and Danny knew it wasn't because Steve was concerned about driving into the side of a delivery van or off the side of a cliff. It was because Steve knew perfectly well that Danny wouldn't hesitate to get him in that very same spot on his ear, which probably really fucking stung by then, but Danny was secure in the self-satisfied knowledge that Steve had earned it.

Finally Steve pointed at Danny, all stern and scowling, and said, "I'm partnering you with Chin."

Danny waited. When Steve didn't add anything else, he asked, "That's it? That's your threat? Force me to work with someone who drives like a sane, normal person, who doesn't kick down doors just to see if the frame will splinter? Make me drive around town with someone who won't put grenades in my glove box?" Danny pressed a hand to his chest, faking a gasp of horror. Then he just gave Steve a doubtful look. "That's your big comeback?"

Steve looked outraged. "You _ear-flicked_ me." He reached over, clearly aiming his forefinger and thumb at Danny's ear, so Danny ducked his head back and swatted at Steve's hand. Steve swatted back and for a few moments they hand-fought, Steve trying to work past Danny's two hands while he tried to keep one hand on the steering wheel and at least part of his attention on the road.

"I am going to arrest you for reckless driving!" Danny warned. "Or for assaulting a police officer. Whichever one gets you locked up for longer."

"I'm not even--!" Steve began, and he shot Danny an outraged look. "I don't even know what I did!"

Danny waited as Steve came to a stop at a red light, and as expected, Steve took the moment to turn his full attention on Danny. Danny kept back against the door, as far out of range as he could get, hands up to ward Steve off if necessary. Steve gave it a try anyhow, letting go of the steering wheel and coming at Danny's head from different directions. Danny bobbed and wove, then leaned in quickly to give Steve another ear-flick. Steve's hand smacked his own even as he landed his blow -- slightly off-target, getting the side of Steve's neck and the tip of the earlobe.

Steve froze for only a second, then he lunged, wrapping his arm around Danny's neck and dragging him down.

"That's it! Assaulting a police officer! Don't think your full immunity and means is going to get you out of this one!" Danny shouted. He protected his ears with his arms, because he knew this position -- there was a wet willy in his future if he wasn't careful, and Danny Williams hadn't suffered that indignity since he was thirteen years old and all three of his siblings had ganged up on him.

"How are you gonna stop me?" Steve demanded, then a loud honk sounded from behind them and Steve jumped, grabbing the wheel and driving through the now-clear intersection.

"You, my friend, are a menace," Danny said in a calm tone as he straightened his tie and tucked his shirt back in where it had come loose.

"You started it," Steve said, and the corner of his mouth quivered, then he pouted at being forced into making such a lame retort.

"In fact you did, when you made that completely uncalled for and disparaging remark about the New Jersey Nets."

Steve gaped. "All I said was I didn't know New Jersey even had a team." Danny raised his hand towards Steve's face; Steve batted it away quickly. "I don't watch basketball! How would I know? Have they ever even won a championship?"

Danny paused, thinking back. "In the seventies, I think. How is that even the point?"

"Well, then, they're never in the local news, are they? How would I know your tiny state has a NBA team?"

Danny narrowed his eyes. "Now you're disparaging small things?"

Steve gave him a sudden, wide grin. "Nah. I like small things. Makes it easier to keep track of stuff that you can shove in your pocket."

That lead to a fourth, or possibly fifth ear-flick attempt -- Danny had lost track. Steve fended him off that time, however, and before Danny could try again, Steve was pulling over. Danny glanced up to see they'd arrived at Mrs. Delacourt's place. With a sigh, Danny felt all the amusement drain out of him.

They'd been banging their heads against this particular wall for weeks without any progress. The Jandoc cousins were -- _allegedly,_ Danny added in his head -- behind a small but growing meth-manufacturing operation. The lab busted up by the HPD had only been half a block away from this residence, and HPD and 5-0 had been making their way through every single one of the neighbors trying to find someone who knew anything and was willing to talk.

So far there were a lot of deaf, dumb, and blind folks living in the area, Danny thought sourly. They'd only busted the one guy, Russ Harper, who'd been living at the house running the small lab, but the eggheads back in Forensics had said that the bags that had been found there matched what had been found in a bigger bust last year, and the quantities meant that there should be more than one tiny lab in one guy's garage.

So far they hadn't been able to find anything to connect Harper to the drugs found in the other operation, but the whispers on the street said the Jandocs were behind it, trying to expand their business from being hoodlums who got into bar fights to something more profitable and stupid.

As they walked towards the next in a long line of what Danny feared was a complete waste of time, he glanced over to his partner. Steve's ear was still bright pink and, when he caught Danny looking, Steve shot him a dark scowl. Danny grinned happily and without a shred of repentance. He could practically feel Steve vibrating with repressed aggression, but he wasn't seriously concerned about Steve's aim miraculously improving in the next ten seconds. It was on the tip of his tongue to mention how some things must not have been covered in BUDS training, but he knew one more nudge would tip the scales into Steve doing something utterly over-the-top as only psycho-SEAL McGarrett could do. Danny hadn't had a chance to restore his wardrobe from the previous month of Steve McGarrett pursuing justice across the better part of Honolulu, including two dips into the ocean and one run-in with a concrete wall just north of the city so he didn't want to tempt fate too badly just yet.

Instead he turned his attention to Mrs. Delacourt's house. It was a simple bungalow with a neatly-trimmed yard and white, lacy curtains in the windows. Nice enough if a little old and run-down, but clearly someone was keeping the place up the best they could. Danny headed up the walk and knocked on the door, turning around to take in the view of the street. A quiet neighborhood, and there weren't a lot of kids running around despite it being half an hour after school should have let out. The houses were big enough for small families; Danny wondered if those who could afford it had moved into better neighborhoods or if all of the kids were just inside glued to television sets.

He heard the door behind him open and he spun around, smiling easily. "Mrs. Delacourt?" he asked. The woman was sixty-five years old, white, and had vivid-red dyed hair that would have looked fake on a teenager. She nodded suspiciously. According to the housing records she'd been living in this same address for thirty years; if anyone knew what her neighbors were up to it ought to be someone like her. Danny kept smiling his best charming-policeman smile and showed her his badge.

Unfortunately it didn't take long for them to determine that she didn't know anything as she was hardly ever home -- the senior center had guided travel, she told them, and lectures, and she had a class every Wednesday that taught her a new craft. She'd just come back from Ireland the previous week and was due for a jeep tour of Kenya. She barely knew anyone beyond her most immediate neighbors -- at which point she went on for five minutes about how the couple across the street had seemed nice when they'd moved in several months ago, but they had loud parties that went on past nine at night and couldn't the police do something about _that_ instead of asking about people on another block whom she'd never met?

Danny didn't waste any time extracting himself from the fruitless interview. He wished her a good day, promised to have someone from HPD look into the noise ordinance, and grabbed his partner by the arm and steered him away, hoping to get gone before the woman came up with an entire laundry list of grievances or threatened to start showing them slides from her scuba diving trip to Australia.

He shoved Steve ahead of him as they got to the driveway; on impulse Danny peeked through the windows in the garage door. He stopped. "Hey, come here." He waved Steve over, moving closer to get a better look, carefully not touching the garage itself so as not to give anyone the slightest inch to claim he'd seen something without a warrant.

Steve gave him a curious look, then stepped up and peered in. After a moment he asked, "What am I looking for?"

Danny shook his head then grabbed Steve's arm again, pushing him towards the car before Mrs. Delacourt could realise what he'd seen. Steve was frowning at him, but going along willingly enough as Danny manhandled him towards the street. He gave Steve one final shove towards the driver's side door, then got in, closed the door, and waved at Steve to commence driving away in a calm and unsuspicious manner.

A few moments later they were at the intersection and Steve turned to him. "Are you going to tell me what just happened? Did she have a meth lab in her garage that I somehow missed seeing?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Remember what Chin said? She's been living there for thirty years, husband died five years ago and she's been living off his pension ever since. No other source of income, no children or other living relatives other than a great aunt in Iowa."

Steve nodded, then waited.

"For God's sake, McGarrett, do you never look at car magazines? You didn't recognise what was in her garage? That was a a 2010 Hyundai Equus." He waited, and when Steve just shrugged hopelessly at him, Danny sighed in despair and spelled it out for him. "I'm willing to accept that maybe traveling around the world isn't as expensive as it sounds; seniors manage to do it all the time. My aunt and uncle saved up and went to see the Great Wall of China and they were never what you'd call well-off. But tell me how a woman living off a twelve hundred a month pension has a seventy thousand dollar car in her garage."

Steve's eyes popped. Then he said, defensively, "I mostly know about old cars. Like my dad's -- at least I can rebuild a carburetor."

Danny looked skyward. "Yes, because the ability to rebuild an engine is vital when it comes to catching criminals. You, drive. I'll call Chin." He pointed at the road ahead and pulled out his cell phone.

Steve gave him a very slight pout, but did as instructed. Danny called Chin to tell him dig further into Mrs. Delacourt's background, including hidden sources of income. As he spoke, he caught sight of Steve glancing his way a couple of times, but the other man didn't say a word to interrupt. Danny didn't acknowledge the quick looks even after he hung up with Chin, because the first two were just Steve being his usual weird self who was unable to keep his eyes off Danny for more than ten seconds, and the third one was, for some reason Danny didn't understand, one of _those._

Danny ignored that look even more than the others. It was a mixture of pride and affection and something else all stirred together into something distinctly soft and goofy-eyed. Danny ignored the way his stomach clenched as he caught sight of it and resolutely didn't think about what might have triggered it. He didn't know if Steve ever knew Danny saw those looks; so far he'd kept up the pretense that he didn't know, pretended that he was as oblivious as Rachel had made him out to be and that he couldn't see just how much Steve was in love with him.

His stomach clenched again, or maybe it was his heart -- he rubbed his hand against his chest as if wondering if it was still beating the right way. To cover, he kept up a steady stream of he didn't even know what, about the Jandocs and drug dealers and people who drove like they owned the island and didn't ever have to worry about things like traffic tickets. Danny pointed out the yellow light they'd just blown through and demanded to know just who they were after that Steve couldn't slow down and avoid wreaking havoc.

He glanced over in time to see Steve grinning and fought to suppress his own answering smile. "There are dozens -- more than dozens -- of driving schools, many of which are right here in Honolulu, that's all I'm saying," Danny gestured at the other cars, several of which were actually driving correctly. The blue Cavalier turning left up ahead made him itch for his ticket book, to pull them over and let them be an example of what not to do. "I'll pay for the lessons, might as well start figuring out now which one to send Grace to anyhow. She's already picked out her car, did I tell you that? She's _ten_ and she wants a Beetle. A pink one, can you imagine?"

Steve was listening to him, Danny could tell by the way Steve was actually watching the road and the other cars, driving like Danny had temporarily distracted the part of his brain that existed to give Danny heart attacks. "What's wrong with Beetles?" Steve asked, a moment later.

"Nothing! I'm just saying, she's ten and thinking about her owning and driving a car makes me start thinking about her being sixteen and _dating_ and I am so much more than six years away from being ready for that." He leaned his head back against the seat, resolutely driving the images from his mind of his little girl, sweet and innocent and adorable, being old enough to notice boys. He placed his hand over his heart again, because wow, that definitely felt like he was having a heart attack.

"I've got shotguns," Steve said, casually.

"Excellent. I'm definitely keeping you around." Danny said it, meaning it and trying not to worry about the way something deep inside him did a funny little flip. He also tried not to think about how Steve had said 'shotguns', plural.

Soon enough they were back at headquarters. Steve pulled up next to the front steps and Danny got out with Steve staying behind the wheel. Danny turned back and leaned down, giving Steve a very stern look. "You are under very strict orders to behave." He used the same tone he'd perfected when Grace was two. She'd listened to him a lot better than Steve -- though he would admit that Grace often could be bribed on occasion with stuffed animals and hugs.

He thought of hugging Steve to get him to behave and, yep, there went that flip, his stomach tumbling over itself and Danny scowled all the harder at the way Steve was grinning innocently. "It's just the monthly check-in with the governor, Danno. We haven't done anything for her to be mad about."

"That she knows of," Danny said. "Or that she probably does know about and is waiting to see if you'll confess to of your own volition. What I want, and I am very sorry to say that I know this is even likely to happen, is while you are there you will not create an international incident by shooting the ambassador, you will not interrupt diamond thieves who just happen to be across the street, you will not blow up any tankers that are about to spill poison into the waterways -- do not look at me like that, Steven, because I know you, I've been there when you said you were just going in for a cup of coffee and you come out with three bruises and a car theft ring busted wide open. You will drive directly to the governor's office, you will not pass Go, you will not collect two hundred dollars. Am I clear?"

Steve nodded, giving him a very serious look. "I won't collect two hundred dollars. Got it." Then he grinned again, and peeled out -- tires smoking and the ass-end of the car fishtailing back and forth. Danny had to stop himself from screaming out that that was _his_ car and could Steve try to remember that and drive like a normal person, but truth was Danny sometimes took his car to empty parking lots and drove around just in the exact same way. He claimed, at least to himself because it wasn't like he told anybody, it was good practise for should he ever find himself in a high speed car chase -- though chances were slim to nil that it would even be _him_ behind the wheel at all.

But he'd perfected his left hand power slide since coming to Hawai'i, which made the whole thing worth it.

He realised with a start he was standing there watching Steve drive away and forced himself to go inside. The cold blast of air conditioning didn't do much to alleviate his irritation, even as he slowed down his steps to let the cooling air circulate around his body. He was tempted to tug at his shirt, create a little breeze, but he'd never hear the end of it from any number of locals walking past him wearing all manner of not-so-professional attire. Professional enough for Hawai'i, of course, and sometimes Danny wondered just how much it would hurt his self-image if he dressed down, just a little bit, on the very warmest of days.

Only problem was that Steve would never let him hear the end of it. His partner would laugh himself sick, or walk around with a smug look like _he'd_ been the one to talk Danny into it and he'd somehow manage to pester Danny into losing his shirt completely, next.

 _As if,_ Danny said to himself, and he tried not to think about the ways in which he knew Steve would probably love to convince Danny to lose more than his shirt. As much as he never came right out and said anything, Steve hadn't ever been subtle about the way he felt and Danny honestly didn't know if Steve thought he was keeping his feelings a secret. He'd never mentioned how he felt, not even tossing out one those lame pick-up lines that could be laughed off by a guy who wasn't interested. Danny didn't deny to himself that, yes, he was interested in a little loss of clothing, himself; as always when he started thinking about it, he felt everything inside squeeze tightly.

Once, a few weeks ago, he'd been standing out on Steve's lanai, holding a bottle of beer and looking out at the ocean, not really thinking much of anything. He'd glanced over, caught Steve's profile out of the corner of his eye. He'd stared for just a moment before yanking his eyes away, focusing on his beer and trying to force away the turmoil in his stomach and chest. He'd felt more than seen Steve turn his head towards Danny, but the other man hadn't said anything and Danny had known -- if he'd ever been waiting for the right moment, it had been then.

Danny had even had words on the tip of his tongue, maybe not on the same level as Smooth Dog McGarrett, but enough that Steve would know he was saying yes. And Danny had suddenly found it hard to breathe, hard to see anything beyond a fuzzing of his vision. By the time he'd got control of himself, Steve hadn't noticed, hadn't even looked over as Danny had fought dying right there beside him, choking to death on his own fears. The moment was gone with the next thump of his heartbeat and Danny had finished his beer, knowing himself for a coward and not able to do anything to change it.

Steve hadn't known how close Danny had come. For all Steve did or said, it seemed like he had no idea how close they'd come to finally changing things. Danny had run as fast as he could away from that evening, leaving casually and without looking like he'd been bolting for the door. The following Monday he'd been himself again, giving Steve a hard time about everything under the far-too-blazing sun and wishing he didn't see all those longing looks of affection that always seemed to fill Steve's eyes when he thought Danny couldn't see.

When Danny got up to 5-0 headquarters he was grateful to see nobody was around. He headed to his office and sat down at his desk, perfectly willing to lose himself in paperwork for the rest of the afternoon. Much as he gave Steve grief over it, he didn't really mind it sometimes. Though why was it Steve couldn't fill out a form by himself without Danny having to check it over for factual errors and spelling mistakes? Grace's homework was easier, Danny took great glee in reminding his partner every chance he got.

Well, the history and reading were. She was already starting to get to the math classes that Danny had struggled with and promptly forgot the second he'd graduated from high school. _Steve could probably help her,_ Danny found himself thinking, and he caught an image in his mind of Steve and Grace sitting at Steve's kitchen table, heads down over her books and Steve patiently explaining to her how to multiply fractions and how to use that information to set explosives to the best advantage.

Danny smiled to himself. That fluttering sensation in his stomach was barely quivering; apparently the idea of a little domesticity wasn't nearly as panic-inducing as the thought of kissing the man.

Then he had to put his face in his hands and breathe deeply, because two seconds after he realised what he'd thought, the word _domesticity_ slammed hard into his skull and made every nerve ending want to run away, throw up, or find a car thief to dangle off a balcony while he screamed.

There was a soft knock on his door and Chin asking, "You all right, Danny?"

Danny nodded, not bothering to raise his head yet. "I am just peachy. Do we have anything on Mrs. Delacourt?" He looked up in time to see Chin's expression tell him the important part: nothing that would help their case.

"Turns out a few years ago she went to a casino during a trip to the mainland. Won about forty thousand dollars."

Danny frowned. "Perfect. So we're no closer than we were before." He sighed and rubbed at his face.

"It was a good catch, noticing her car," Chin said, trying to sound encouraging.

Danny waved him off, though he nodded in acknowledgment of what Chin was trying to do. "I suppose I'm just sensitive about nice cars since I never get to drive my own," he began, smiling a little as Chin grinned at him. "I swear, soon I'm going to forget how to drive and I'll have to take up a hobby to amuse myself while I sit in the passenger seat."

"We could fix up the backseat with a laptop and you could have a portable office," Chin offered.

"Laptop and coffee machine," Danny said, then he stopped. He blinked at Chin, then he leapt up and headed out to the conference room with Chin on his heels. Danny got as far as the computer before he stopped and explained. "A few years back we had this case, drug dealers we couldn't ever track down. It was like they didn't even have labs, just created the stuff out of thin air. Turned out they had miniature labs set up in their cars."

Chin had started typing even before Danny had finished speaking, calling up the records of each of the Jandoc cousins.

"Track down every vehicle they own," Danny said. "Traffic tickets, parking tickets, anything. Any vehicle they have access to -- work vehicles or...I don't know, reports of missing pizza delivery cars. If we can track their movements and check it against the shipments we know about, match up _anything_ with any of the people involved....."

Chin nodded. "Got it."

Danny stepped back and, for a moment, just watched as Chin typed. It wasn't as though he honestly expected instant results -- collecting and compiling the information could take awhile, even before they started reading over it to try to find useful patterns. But Danny couldn't simply walk off and leave him to it. He stood there, trying not to noticeably vibrate with nervous tension, until after a few more minutes Chin looked over at him, holding up his PDA.

"I've got it set to notify me when the information has been compiled," he said. "While we're waiting, turns out Manuel Jandoc works for a company called Honolulu Relocation Experts. They specialise in moving businesses, not residential."

"Which means fewer concerned families watching to make sure the movers don't break or steal their stuff."

Chin smiled. "Exactly. I think we can pay them a visit this afternoon, don't you?"

"I think that is an excellent idea," Danny agreed, more than ready to be doing something constructive towards arresting the Jandocs.

~~~~

He's blacked out, he thinks, because he opens his eyes and is disoriented for a moment. His eyesight doesn't clear; it's still pitch black in here and for a worryingly long moment Danny honestly can't decide if it's dark in the trunk or if he's gone blind from the blow to his head.

Even as he tells himself it's the trunk, it's nighttime, the trunk is sealed tight, he finds himself gasping and his heart-rate spikes. It takes a stern word to himself to calm the fuck down, already, and it worries Danny a lot that the voice in his head which is reassuring him, sounds a lot like Steve,

Naturally he'd like to be hearing Steve's voice right about now. But all he can hear is the traffic around him and what sounds like, in the distance, a ship's horn. He can't decide if that means he's near a port -- he thinks about being dumped off a pier, still tied in the car and he has to force himself frozen still. _They wouldn't, not in front of witnesses, not at a working pier,_ the voice in his head says smoothly, and yes, okay, so it sounds like Steve and Danny's all right with that. He doesn't mind Steve being the sane one right about now, because the middle of a crisis is when guys like Steve always sound calm, collected. Trained to help people who've gotten themselves cold-cocked and hogtied, trapped and helpless and in need of a smug rescuer who will hold it over their heads for a month.

Danny forces himself to inhale slowly, deeply, and tries to relax. He has to focus -- _on what?_ he hears another, snide and terrified voice ask. Danny gives himself a mental shake. This isn't helping. He has to focus, has to remain calm and if-- when. When his chance arrives, he is going to be ready to take it.

~~~~

As it turned out, the company's schedule of drivers and vans gave 5-0 the piece of the puzzle they needed. Two days later, Danny was standing back, watching with satisfied glee -- and a lingering heart palpitation from Steve's driving -- as HPD took the Jandocs into custody. He stood a few feet away and watched with a feeling of pride at one more case down, practically wrapped and tied with a string. It was enough to make him not even really mind the sun blazing down in his eyes.

He'd earned a cold beer, they all had, and days like this one was what made the mind-numbing footwork worth it. Danny watched Steve, who was helping one of the uniformed officers intimidate Rafael Jandoc into handcuffs. The big man wasn't going quietly but he was heavily out-numbered and Steve was still riding the adrenaline high of the chase, cheerfully tripping Jandoc and following him to the ground, wrestling the big man's hands behind his back.

Danny shook his head and sighed as Jandoc began shrieking for his lawyer. He caught the eye of one of the other officers, a young woman who'd been talking to Kono. From their easy stance as they stood side by side, Danny wondered if the woman was someone Kono had known at the Academy.

The young woman caught him looking and gave him a hesitant smile; a much older uniformed cop walked up behind her and gave Danny a dry look. "You gonna control your pilikua, Williams?" he asked with a nod towards Steve who was sitting astride Jandoc's back and grinning maniacally as Jandoc loudly proclaimed his innocence and threatened to sue for false arrest.

Danny just shook his head, wondering why Kono was stifling a quick laugh and said, "If you are referring to Commander McGarrett, I can safely say that, no, I have no intentions of ever hoping to control him. At best, I hope to have him heavily sedated on a regular basis so that citizens can safely go about their business without fear of live grenades being chucked through their windows."

The young officer's eyes went wide and she shot a glance at the other cop, who just laughed. Finally the last of the police vehicles with the Jandocs were pulling away and Steve came over to stand by Danny. His eyes were shining with excitement and he was bouncing slightly on his feet.

"They make tranquilizers for that," Danny said casually and Steve cocked his head in confusion. Danny waved a hand at him, but before he could try to explain that Steve was still a crazy person, Lieutenant Gerrison walked up. She was the department's public liaison officer and had been speaking to the reporters that had already gathered at the edge of the excitement. She gave Steve a careful look, then turned to Danny.

"They want to talk to one of you," she said, keeping her gaze firmly on Danny. "Someone with a cell phone has already uploaded a video of the arrest to the internet and the 5-0 groupies want an official statement." The corner of her mouth quirked. Danny was grateful that Gerrison was one of 5-0's supporters, at least in their results if not in the number of times she'd held a press conference to justify property damage and excessive use of burning buildings as a crime fighting tool.

Danny pointed to himself. "And you want me to do it," he said in a tone of understanding. He gave Steve a doubtful once-over. "See, McGarrett, this is why you wear a tie to work. It makes people realise you're a respectable, upstanding member of the city's finest law enforcement."

Steve rolled his eyes, but Danny gave him a smug look as he preened for a moment before following Gerrison over to the police tape. She prepped him quickly, spelling out what he was allowed to say and what he wasn't, emphasizing diligent police work and shying away from discussion about the Jandocs' van which was still lying on its side in the background.

She didn't let him say much at all, but he smiled for the cameras and spoke clearly and confidently, exuding the confidence of a police officer that people could rely on. When it was over she gave him a smile, letting him know he'd avoided embarrassing himself and the department. Then he returned to his car, where Steve was sitting on the hood waiting for him. He looked so at ease and happy that for a moment Danny lost his stride, nearly tripping himself on the asphalt.

"Ready for your close up, Mr. DeMille?" Steve asked as Danny drew near.

Danny flipped him off. "I'll have you know that public image is important," he began, but Steve was already sliding off the hood of the car and heading for the driver's side, not listening to a word Danny was saying. Danny cast a despairing glance heavenward before getting in the car. "Seriously, would it kill you to look professional one of these days?" Danny asked as he pointedly buckled himself in and forced back a grin as Steve shot him a look that was a mix of wounded and annoyed.

"Normally when I dress for work I'm wearing camouflage," Steve retorted. "Or a wetsuit. I could come to the office wearing that."

"You say that like you haven't already." Danny didn't actually recall Steve wearing a wetsuit, either to the office or _ever_ in Danny's presence. He was fairly sure he would have remembered -- given the way every instance of Steve stripping down to his shorts was burned into his memory.

He realised a moment later there was a suspicious silence coming from Steve's side of the car. Danny shot over a glare and was not surprised to see an expression of guilt on the other man's face.

"Seriously? _Seriously?_ You wore a wetsuit to the office? You... Do you even _have_ an excuse? Because I desperately need to know what possessed you to wear a wetsuit in the office which, may I point out, is a good twenty minutes' drive to the nearest ocean."

"Ten minutes, tops," Steve interrupted. "If you avoid the intersection at--"

"The way you drive, yes, but for normal people-- why am I even arguing with you about this? Why were you wearing a wetsuit in the office and when did this even happen? How do I not know about this when it happens -- or, God willing, before it happens so I can _talk you out of it._ "

There was a pause, then Steve gave Danny a slow grin. "You wanna talk me out of my wetsuit?"

Danny froze, then slowly thumped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "This is not the moment," he said. "Of all the moments that could possibly be the moment, this is not it. We are driving back to headquarters to finish up the paperwork on the Jandocs so they can go to jail where they belong. This is not the time you pick to finally flirt with me out loud. For God's sake, McGarrett, has no one ever taught you proper social behavior?" Danny rubbed his fingers across his face, wondering for the fifty-eight-hundredth time how he had failed to lead a normal, quiet, sane sort of life.

The silence coming from the other side of the car was nothing like the guilty silence earlier. Danny looked over, alarmed, and Steve's jaw was tensed and that he was staring determinedly ahead. The mood in the car had dropped to nearly arctic, and for once Danny couldn't say he was glad to feel a chill. Even as Danny watched, Steve's eyes flickered towards him; when Steve saw him looking he snapped his gaze back towards the road. Another moment passed, then he said in a tone that was meant to be light, but was very clearly not, "Sorry. Bad joke."

 _Oh,_ Danny thought. He felt rather like a large, cartoon anvil had just hit him on the head. He'd never even wondered why Steve hadn't said a word out loud, limiting himself to looks and passing glances when he thought Danny wouldn't notice. For his own part, Danny had been so wrapped up in 'am I ready' and 'is this even a good idea, he's a co-worker for God's sake' that he had never actually asked himself why Steve was dragging his feet about making a move.

He reached over and took a light hold of Steve's wrist. He didn't try to tug it away from the steering wheel because the line of muscle in Steve's arm showed quite clearly the death grip Steve had on it. Just his luck to swerve them into oncoming traffic when he was trying to have a serious conversation. So Danny left his fingers on Steve's wrist and said, "The answer is yes, by the way. I was just hoping for something a little more...appropriate. A nicer atmosphere, or at least more time than five minutes in the Palace's parking lot hoping no one is watching the security cameras."

There was a pause before Steve turned to him, eyes wide and jaw half-dropped open in surprise; Danny shouted at him and pointed at the road, and for once Steve actually spun back around and braked in time to not run through the red. Then he looked over again and Danny could see him trying to form the words to ask.

"It never occurred to me that you might think you couldn't ask," Danny said.

"It was never... I mean, growing up it was never...and the Navy..." Steve shrugged, fumbling through enough of an explanation that Danny knew he should have known, should have guessed, at least. He squeezed his fingers lightly where they rested on Steve's wrist. Steve shot him a look. "I didn't know if you'd be interested."

"I," Danny said, raising one finger because he knew there were going to be a lot of bullet points. "Am not completely convinced that this isn't insane, that you are not the craziest crazy person to walk around without a straitjacket, and that this isn't going to make me run for the hills because I still don't know if I'm ready for this sort of thing you're not yet proposing. Casual sex is one thing but the way you look at me is not casual, my friend, and I get these weird feelings right here," he gestured at his stomach, his heart, his entire torso and organs within, "whenever I think of letting myself get roped into something so serious again, given how it ended the last time.

"However, I will say that while I am very interested in talking you out of your wetsuit, or your cargo shorts and t-shirt which is what you're wearing right now, I know better than to think it will all be fun and games and one day I'm going to wake up and wonder what the hell I've done with my life and you'll still be throwing live grenades at people and ignoring me when I tell you they have therapists for that sort of thing."

Danny took a deep breath but it didn't seem to help the feeling of panic that was clutching at his throat. It was easy to think about sex with Steve -- relatively speaking. It was impossible to think about next year, or five years after that and countless mornings waking up and countless nights going to sleep and all those little moments he'd once thought he'd share forever with someone else, only to find out he'd been wrong, very wrong, and here he was feeling those exact same things and he didn't honestly know if he was ready for it. He tried to take a deep breath and he felt Steve's wrist turn in his grasp then slip free. Then Steve was the one holding onto him, his thumb rubbing slowly along the side of Danny's hand.

"You need to get over this thing you have about grenades," Steve said in a casual tone. Danny realised they'd started driving again, and slowly blinked at his partner.

"I have? That _I_ have? You're the one who puts grenades in the glove compartment of _my_ car because he thinks they will actually come in _handy._ I'm not the one who thinks 'hey, I've washed the car, filled the tank with gasoline, now I need to turn the grenades so they'll be fresh and line the bucket seats with ammo clips!" Danny took a deep breath, seeing how Steve was half-smiling at him, taunting him because the bastard knew perfectly well who was the insane one around there.

Danny spent the next ten minutes explaining at length how the typical automobile was not designed nor intended for the inclusion of heavy ordinance -- and it was only as they pulled into the parking lot of Iolani Palace that Danny realised two things. The first was that Steve was still holding his hand. The second was that Steve had distracted him from an incipient panic attack -- and that it had worked.

He wanted to tug on Steve's hand, drag him across the seat and into the sort of thing he didn't want the security cameras in the parking lot to see. But he didn't, because -- hello, security cameras -- and besides which this wasn't the time or place, no matter what McGarrett seemed to think, for this sort of thing.

Steve opened his door but didn't move to get out, giving Danny a curious look. The casual air was gone and Danny could see the worry creeping in again underneath the veneer Steve used to keep most other people out.

Danny felt a little dizzy from trying to figure out who was reassuring whom around here.

"So, maybe... you wanna have dinner at my place tonight?" Steve asked, sounding nervous and covering it with a charming grin and a easy slouch in the driver's seat.

"I will require the use of my car after work," Danny said, but he was nodding, saying yes, and before he could point out he'd already said it once, Steve was smiling at him and it was, Danny thought, just exactly like sun coming out from the storm clouds. He scowled, shoving away the urge to break out in poetry, or quoting lyrics in his head, or some other nonsense. "Why am I asking you for permission to use my own car?"

"Because you are a well-brought up, polite young man," Steve said, and Danny reached over and slugged him in the shoulder.

Steve just laughed and leapt out of the car, while Danny followed, much more sedately. He watched as Steve ran ahead, bounding up the stairs like a hundred pounds of weight had been dropped from his shoulders; Steve turned at the entrance and looked back, grinned, then ran ahead into the building.

Danny rubbed his face with one hand and asked himself just what the hell he was getting himself into. "He is a complete _goofball,_ " he said out loud to no one. "Why can't I ever meet someone nice and normal, who likes to golf, and maybe go fishing. We could spend Sundays reading the newspaper and arguing over brands of toilet paper. Instead I get _that._." He sighed and shook his head -- then he reached the bottom step and ran up them, finally letting himself break into a smile.

~~~~

City streets have turned into dirt roads. The car is bumping along and Danny has hit his aching head several times now, making the pain in his skull threaten to turn into a blinding agony. He scolds himself at thinking the word blind, because he isn't, he can see just fine there's just nothing to see. An empty trunk, nothing but him and the cuffs on his wrists and the duct tape around his knees and ankles, and something attaching each of them to something inside the trunk. He's held firm, and there is nothing he can find that will even give him the hope of using it to wrestle himself free.

His elbow hurts from slamming it against the inside of the trunk as they drove over a particularly huge pothole -- the size of Jersey, it felt like, and Danny would have shouted at his kidnappers to take it easy, already, only he's pretty sure they won't care if he damages himself en route.

Danny wants to shout at them anyway, thinks of pissing them off so they stop and confront him, haul him out so he can have a fighting chance. Instead of whatever they have planned when they get to where they're going.

They've been driving enough that Danny knows the chance of being seen by witnesses is growing slimmer. Maybe they're going to hold him someplace private while they threaten to kill him if their cousins aren't released. He thinks about being trapped in a room, tied to a chair and being fed water and bread and spam for days while Steve rushes to find him. He might not even complain, as long as Steve eventually arrives in time.

Danny laughs, not really feeling it but desperate for something other than screaming. Maybe he'll complain a little when Steve finally does find him, because if he's going to be a prisoner he doesn't really want to be forced to eat spam and pineapple. He thinks about what he'll say, making lists of all the things that will have inevitably gone wrong with the Rescue Danny Operation, because it's better than thinking about the alternatives.

 

~~~~

Two hours after returning to the office, Danny had finished his portion of the paperwork -- but only because he had finally banned Steve from his office, forbidden him to send inter-office email, text him, or stand at the window and hold up signs.

He'd had to enlist Kono's and Chin's help in enforcing the rules: Kono for hiding the markers and Chin for re-routing Steve's email. Danny didn't know if either of them twigged as to the reason Steve was behaving more like a loon than normal. He wasn't prepared to say they were going on their _first date_ but a person didn't have to be a detective to see that both Steve and Danny were a little more high-spirited than normal. Kono hadn't said a word if she'd figured it out, but when Danny had asked Chin about blocking Steve's email, the other man had pursed his lips like he'd been trying to hold back a smile.

When Steve began rigging a couple of flags for semaphore from the conference room, Danny had finally explained that he was not going to have time for dinner if he had to spend the entire evening catching up on missed work. McGarrett had slumped off to his own office like a small child sent to his room, but at least he'd left Danny alone for long enough to get through his reports.

Even without Steve's constant interruptions, it was difficult to concentrate. He kept thinking about that evening -- dinner, sure, and Steve would probably light up the grill. But even though they hadn't said so, Danny was grown-up enough to know that he'd be staying the night.

It was why he needed to swing by his own place, first. Not just to grab a small bag because there was no way he was putting on today's clothes tomorrow morning. That was good if you needed an excuse to make a hasty exit come breakfast, but Danny knew he'd be staying the night and quite frankly, Danny didn't see himself wanting to escape Steve's clutches for a good long portion of the weekend.

His stomach clenched and he stoutly ignored it, concentrating on his plans. An overnight bag, casual clothes for tomorrow and his toothbrush. He also needed to take a shower. Maybe it was the nervous sixteen year old in him, but he needed a shower and fresh shave and a little...extra care given to any places he hadn't been expecting would get close attention by another human being when he'd showered that morning.

He could be to Steve's place by six, so he texted a short note to that effect and left headquarters before Steve could start pestering him about the text ban being lifted. Danny hurried to his car without letting himself think -- about anything -- and he drove back to his apartment. He could feel _something_ inside him roiling at the thought, _we are actually doing this._ They were making plans, Steve was expecting him and they would have dinner and talk like they'd known each other for a year and it wasn't some stupid blind date, or an awkward first dinner and movie after someone drove her car into yours.

Steve was a friend, which meant they already had crap they could talk about, and they were already easy in each other's presence, and...the only thing new and different about tonight would be the sex, and the realisation that this meant something big.

Or maybe it wouldn't. Danny knew from bitter experience that falling for someone and getting together didn't have to mean a damn thing. He'd had girlfriends who didn't last for more than three dates, he'd had a boyfriend that had lasted a year before they'd parted ways. He'd been married for ten fucking years before discovering that nothing was etched in stone, not even 'til death do us part and as long as you both shall live.

It didn't help to think that Steve might end up getting them killed long before they could fuck up a relationship. Danny laughed, hearing the half-strangled tone in his voice as he sat at a red light only a few blocks away from his place. Just his luck he'd find something awesome and forever only to have it go up in smoke because they'd got themselves killed in the line of duty.

He had to lean forward, resting his head on the steering wheel for a few seconds, trying to get himself back under control. When the light changed he hit the gas pedal with a jerk, shooting his car forward with a lurch. Cursing himself, he got the car under control and was grateful there was no irritated honking or shouting from drivers around him.

He honestly didn't know if this was even going to work out. He had no clue what he was getting into, what Steve thought they were getting into. For all he knew Steve hadn't thought any farther ahead than tonight, maybe tomorrow. Or maybe Steve had already planned it all out down to the nursing home they'd both live out the last of their days in together.

Danny felt a catch in his throat and he knew it was fear, the urge to run far away from something that should have been wonderful but he'd learned could bite you so very hard on the ass. He didn't think he could go through with Steve what he'd done with Rachel. He'd loved her so much, with every part of his being -- or so he'd thought at the time and so he would still swear as he looked back on their years together.

But now he'd gone through periods of hating her, wishing horrible things and feeling like there would never be another good day in his life. Eventually he'd let go of some of the pain and anger, but there was still so much he felt -- betrayal that she hadn't tried harder to let him know she was unhappy. Guilt, that maybe she had and he hadn't bothered to see. He was bitter and resigned and he'd lost all those things that had made him so happy, like the smell of her hair when he walked up behind her in the kitchen, or the way she smiled when he complimented her, or the way she'd gripped his hand so tightly in fear every time they watched their daughter take one more step into growing up.

Now she was just....he didn't know if he could call her a friend, but an ally, at least, in the raising of Grace, and someone with whom he could speak to without wanting to tear his heart out -- or hers. But the whirlwind was still there, from love to hate to nearly everything in-between.

Thinking of feeling those things about Steve made him want to pull the car over and vomit into the street.

He wasn't stupid, he knew the fear of possibly losing Steve was no good reason not to try. He only wished he knew if he should pin all his hopes on it working this time, or if he should just leap out and grab what he could, while he could, and enjoy himself until it all fell apart on him again.

As he parked his car in front of his apartment, Danny didn't know if he had managed to talk himself into or out of following through. He couldn't beg off dinner -- if he wanted to back out he'd do so to Steve's face. Of course, he had a feeling once he got there he wouldn't want to say no.

Which, he rather hoped, meant he was doing the right thing by saying yes.

He headed for his apartment, reaching the front door before he remembered he hadn't checked his mail. He stopped and half-turned to go down to the communal bank of mailboxes and flinched backwards as he found a short, Hispanic man walking up close behind him. The man was young, maybe twenty-five, and he was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt and nondescript black plastic sunglasses.

"Sorry, can I help you?" Danny asked, feeling irritated and a little concerned.

"I'm Rico," the guy said, and Danny tensed. He glanced around quickly, feeling as if someone were creeping up behind him. That was his mistake, as he heard Rico say, "You have my cousins," even as out of the corner of his eye he saw something whirl towards him, then there was a splitting pain in his skull and darkness.

~~~~

If Rico and his accomplice had stuffed Danny in his own trunk, he'd be free by now. Not long after Mary had been kidnapped, Steve had carefully modified the trunks of both Danny's and Kono's cars so that each had hidden within them two pair of handcuff keys, four knives, and a small radio. Danny hadn't even mocked Steve for his preparations; instead he'd leant a hand, helping Steve test it out by closing the trunk lid on him and seeing how long it took Steve to work his way free.

Danny doesn't bother struggling against his cuffs anymore. His wrists hurt and his fingers are almost numb; he has no idea how long he's been lying in here. He's passed out more than once on the drive, noticing the change in his surroundings but unable to determine how long they'd driven. When the car stops, Danny hears the clanging of the car doors and feels the slight rocking of the car as the men who've grabbed him get out. Then there's the sound of voices fading as their owners walk away.

He lays there for what seems like a short period of time, but he can't even tell if he's still drifting in and out of consciousness. He's been exhausted and nauseous since the moment he woke up and his head is still pounding. He jerks his head again as he realises his eyes have slid shut.

With the total darkness and now total silence, he has no way to judge the passage of time. Is it still Thursday night? Is it morning, yet? All he has to ground him are the aches in his head and his knees and his wrists, and the dripping of blood from the bite of the cuffs. He can't reach anything that will come loose and he's been stripped of anything useful out of his pockets.

Danny closes his eyes again, taking a long, slow breath and telling himself all he has to do is wait. Steve and the others will come, they'll track him down with some wild, hair-brained method that only Navy SEALS and techheads would even dream of. They'll find him easily, popping open the trunk and harassing him for dragging them out of their nice warm beds.

Danny tries not to shiver and tries even harder not to wonder when they'd even think to start looking for him. Surely not more than an hour after he'd been taken. Steve will be expecting him, he'll call Danny's phone then go over to his apartment when Danny doesn't show. He'll mobilize everyone and search the entire island if necessary until they find him.

 _And what if Steve decides I've changed my mind?_ Danny snarls at the traitorous voice that forces its way into his thoughts. It's something he's been fighting against worrying over since he'd first noticed the idea half-forming. If Steve thinks Danny isn't coming, he'll call, and when he gets no answer...it's possible he might give up.

Danny doesn't think it's likely, but he has to accept that it's a possibility. Steve might take the silence as rejection and choose to mope alone instead of going over to demand Danny explain himself and discover that Danny's gone.

But what if Steve doesn't notice until morning when he goes in to the office? Maybe that's already happened, Danny thinks, because surely a few hours have passed by now since he was conked on the head. He's cold enough that he figures he must have been lying here for awhile. So maybe it's morning already and Steve and Chin and Kono are just now sitting around the conference room making coffee and talking about how the day is shaping up and when will that lazy haole drag himself in to work?

He hasn't been called a haole by his co-workers since he transferred out of the HPD, but Danny's too tired to wonder what they call him when he's not around. That's not the point, he tells his aching brain, and he spends far too long trying to corral his thoughts into something resembling order. The point, he remembers, is that he needs the others to come give him a hand. If they could even just pop the trunk, Danny tells himself, he'd be happy to take care of the part where he gets away.

Danny shivers again and squeezes his eyes more tightly closed. There is every reason to think it will take them until morning to discover he's gone, every reason to think Steve has spent the night thinking Danny couldn't have been bothered to turn him down gracefully, with at least phone call to say he isn't coming.

"How can you think I'd change my mind, McGarrett?" Danny says out loud, the sound of his voice startling him at how thin and raspy it comes out. He strains at the cuffs on his wrists again as he wants so very badly to smack the man who isn't there to be railed at. "How can you not have noticed I'm missing?" he snaps, and he flinches only after the fact as he wonders if he shouldn't be trying to attract the Jandocs' attention. If he annoys them enough into shooting him sooner, rather than later, Steve won't have enough time to find him.

He wants to kick at the trunk and stops himself just in time, remembering the jolting pain that had shot through his entire leg, all the way up to his hip, the first time he'd tried it. He has to wait, has to hope that when the trunk is finally opened it will be a friendly face, not Rico or his accomplice or the barrel of a gun pointing in.

Would they even bother to open the trunk, or would they shoot through the metal? Would they drive the car off a cliff and let the ocean seep in and drown him? Danny fights the urge to scream at them, ask them what they hell they're doing. If they're debating the best way to kill him or best place to dump his body, he'd be happy to provide a few alternatives.

As the seconds -- or minutes, possibly hours for all Danny could tell -- tick by, it gets harder to lie still. There is absolutely nothing he can find, digging his fingers into the metal and dust, feeling over everything once again for anything, a sliver he can catch the cuffs on, rub against to cut free no matter how long it might take. For all the time they're taking, leaving him here to be killed, he could have hacked his way free if he'd had anything to work with.

But there is nothing, they've stripped it clean and there's not even anything on Danny's person he can use to change his situation. The best he can do is possibly grab the end of his tie and use it to suffocate himself, if he thought it might make for a more pleasant death than whatever they have planned.

Maybe Steve will come soon, Danny thinks. Maybe the silence outside is Steve and the others arguing or shooting or dumping bodies into the ocean themselves, just around the corner and the wind was carrying the noise away so Danny can't hear it.

He laughs, once, catching the noise in his throat and coughing. Have they forgotten about him? Or is he a hostage and Rico is calling the governor, leaving their prisoner outside, cold and worried but unharmed? He has no idea, no clue from anything they've done or said -- hell, he doesn't even know if there are only two of them, or if the entire Jandoc clan not currently in custody has come to steal him away.

Then he hears footsteps approaching the car and Danny freezes, then he presses himself back as far as he can away from the door. It won't help -- though it might, might give him an extra inch to roll out of the way. But he knows, he'd known since the moment he'd woken up here, that the trunk is so small that anyone firing into it will have no chance of missing. With his arms and legs secured he has no hope of grabbing the gun or arm of his assailant, no hoping of throwing himself out of the trunk before they could fire.

Maybe he can still talk his way out, talk them into-- The trunk opens and Danny can see a silhouette in dim light and the sharp odor of the wind off the ocean hits him in the face. They're going to dump him, shoot him and dump his body in the water. He's ready to lash out, as soon as his assailant gets close enough, arms and legs tense for whatever inches of movement he can dredge up to fight.

The trunk door swings up and Steve blinks down at him.

For what feels like forever, Danny can't speak, though he feels his jaw dropping and he tries to say...he doesn't even know what, his body and brain are collapsing in relief and exhaustion even as Steve is asking him questions, asking if he's okay. Then Steve's reaching down, grabbing his arms and all Danny can do is roll towards him, resting his head on Steve's forearm. He presses his face against the sleeve of Steve's shirt -- black, night camo, and Danny manages a weak laugh. Then Steve's telling him everything is all right, and Kono walks up behind Steve and begins to untangle Danny's legs.

In moments Steve is pulling him out of the trunk and Danny can see that he's been parked in the yard of a run-down house, surrounded by trees on one side and ocean on the other. He has no idea where they are and the dimly lit sky doesn't tell him if it is early morning or early evening. He feels a tug at his wrists and looks over his shoulder to see Kono undoing the cuffs and Chin has appeared from somewhere. He's talking softly to Steve about calling the ambulance and Steve is nodding, still holding onto Danny's arms.

Danny tries to take a deep breath. He wants to tell Steve this isn't what he meant when he'd agreed to spend a romantic evening with the man. He tries to tease him, accuse Steve of planning the kidnapping so he could play rescue. All of the words get caught in his chest and Danny can only let Steve pull him closer, then Danny just lets himself fall forward against him and stops trying to speak.

"It's okay," Steve says calmly, and Danny realises he's been saying those same words over and over. He wants to tell Steve it really _is_ okay, now, let Steve know he's fine, but he can't quite seem to make the words come. He feels Steve's arms around him, holding him up, and Danny closes his eyes and lets himself just rest for a moment.

~~~~

When Danny opens his eyes he sees a hospital room and Steve standing there, looking down at him. Danny's mind feels fogged over and it's hard to think, but Steve's blanked out expression reminds him of his partner's futile attempts at looking blameless, and it makes him wonder if Steve hasn't done his paperwork.

Danny starts to shake his head. There's no way he's doing Steve's reports as well as his own, even if he can't quite remember what paperwork it is. There was a case, or something, and Danny tries to think of names but everything's fuzzy around the edges. Sort of fuzzy in the center, as well, and Danny figures it doesn't matter because Chin will leave the blank forms on Danny's desk if he asks, and Danny can look up the details later. Maybe Kono knows, and Danny can make her do the reports.

He feel like crap and doesn't want to do paperwork at all, much less his partner's, who seems to be content to just stand around beside his bed and look at him funny. Danny opens his mouth and gets as far as "Not" before his brain slides sideways a little, and the world bobbles and then goes black.

~~~~

The second time he opens his eyes Steve is asleep in a chair beside Danny's bed, and in his lap Grace is curled up, sound asleep with her head against Steve's shoulder. Danny smiles, wanting to reach over and touch them, but he doesn't want to wake either of them up. So he closes his eyes again, knowing that eventually he'll wake up and it will be daytime, and maybe it will be easier to think. Either way he knows Steve would be here, so he lets himself go back to sleep.

~~~~

When Danny didn't argue about convalescing at Steve's place, Steve nearly had him re-admitted for another 24 hours of medical observation. But discharged he was, and despite his headache Danny managed to harass Steve for most of the drive -- anything that came to mind, from canned ham to the amount of air pressure in his truck's tires. Steve seemed blissfully content to have Danny ranting at him; so blatantly obvious about it that Danny dredged his brain for new topics even while his mouth ran on autopilot, looking for something else he could blame on Steve.

He was down to scraping the bottom of the barrel and complaining about the lack of indoor ice hockey when they finally reached Steve's place. Danny was parched, his throat dry and his head starting to pound, but he followed Steve inside, talking about how he'd learned to ice skate when he was four, and Grace had begun when she was five and now she'd grow up and forget all how to do it because of the ice-less paradise they found themselves in.

When Steve's front door swung shut Danny stopped, and for a moment there was nothing but silence. Steve turned and looked at him, motionless like he didn't know what to do, afraid to move or speak for fear Danny would shatter into an illusion of glass and ranting. Danny looked around, seeing the same four walls of Steve's living room that he'd always seen. Everything was the same, and Danny realised he was surprised. He felt his hands trembling, and he looked back at Steve.

"You know how we had plans the other night?" he asked, and Steve's face darkened for a second before it cleared into a blankness and Steve just nodded. Willing to give it up if Danny said he needed time and Danny's heart ached at the realisation of what Steve was preparing himself for. But Danny stepped forward and said, "Can we just... move past all that? Pretend it was months ago and we're... beyond all that first time awkward and is this okay nonsense and just....." He lost track of the words he needed, but the blankness had gone from Steve's expression.

"Whatever you need, Danny," he said, and Danny saw his hand start to move towards him then stop, still uncertain of whether it was okay to touch.

"That," Danny gestured at Steve's hand. "That is what I want to skip past. _Yes,_ I need a hug and yes, I'm not quite done freaking out but I've got it mostly together now, so if you treat me like I'm fragile china I'm going to thump you."

There was an amused quirk in the corner of Steve's mouth, but Danny didn't care because he was coming forward and wrapping his arms around him, and Danny tugged himself close and buried his face in Steve's chest. He'd been fighting off the shakes since he'd woken up for good, brain mostly clear and having been debriefed of the facts of his rescue. But whenever he'd closed his eyes and it was dark, he'd jolted awake, heart racing and even now, broad daylight and the middle of Steve's living room he couldn't seem to convince his brain that it was over.

He knew, rationally, that he just needed more time. One hour out of the hospital, two days out of 5-0 tracking him down -- Rico Jandoc had tossed Danny's phone in the backseat, and Chin had been tracking him only a few hours after they'd conked him on the head and stuffed him in the trunk. It had been easy for them; the only hard part had been Danny not knowing that they were coming -- and their not knowing if they would find Danny or his body in the trunk.

Steve's arms tightened around him, and Danny realised that the hands pressed against his back were shaking. Steve ducked his head down and Danny heard him inhale. Danny swallowed once, and pushed himself just a little bit closer, and hung on.

He didn't think either of them were going to be moving for a very long time, and that was just about perfect.


End file.
